Lie Still and Let Me Work
by forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: He isn't allowed to fight, Erskine is dead and Stark has a few more tests to run; Steve just wants to sleep. 70 years later when Bruce finds out what happened, he gets mad. Warning: misuse of medical examinations, emotional manipulation, non-explicit sexual abuse


Steve wasn't really paying attention to what was happening around him, the medical team bustling around moving things, taking notes, talking in low, subdued voices. Dr Erskine had barely been dead for three hours and things were moving on swiftly. Colonel Phillips had dismissed him and the whole Project and Steve had been given a card bearing the address of the studio he was meant to report to the next day to start his career as a showman. To top the day off, he was suddenly in this new, bigger and clumsy body which both awed and intimidated him. _Pathetic,_ he told himself, _scared by your own body_. But it wasn't his, not yet. He felt like he had to earn it, had to work for the name 'Captain America' which the Governor had mentioned like it was already a name in lights on Broadway.

He was pulled out of his processing of the day's events by a sudden hush in the lab. Looking around he found that only one nurse remained, fiddling with some phials, her face half-turned to him. He glanced at the clock and found to his surprise that some time had passed, the Governor had also given him the name of a hotel to stay at close to the studio, assuring him that his duffel bag had already been sent to his room there and implying that he shouldn't go home. Being Top Secret and all. Gloomily, he supposed that the tests were done so he started rolling down the sleeves of the shirt someone had handed him earlier and made to get off the table before a familiar voice called out to him.

"Just a minute champ," Stark was strolling in, walking quickly and yet causally, in that relaxed-important air he carried with him, "I got a few more quick tests I gotta add to the others." Biting back a sigh, Steve shifted back into a sitting position, hoping that they would be brief so he could crash onto a bed sometime soon. Stark nodded to the nurse who smiled briefly at Steve and left the room. The scientist glanced through the notes left by the doctors, humming under his breath and the weary soldier tried not to snap at him. Without looking up the genius said bluntly.

"I'm gonna need you to strip."

"Excuse me?" Steve exclaimed reflexively before remembering that Stark was a professional and the closest thing to an expert on the serum, the genius threw him a look, his expression fairly neutral but his eye flashed as he looked him up and down and said playfully.

"Don't tell me you're shy." Emotionally exhausted from the day, even if his body was still going strong, Steve opened his mouth to protest when the engineer cut over him. "Look, I know that it's been a long day, for everyone," that addition snagged the tired soldier's attention, "but I'm the closest person left to understand that Serum. I need a few more tests to help me recreate it, do you have a problem with that Private?" The use of his real rank snapped the soldier out of his discomfort and fatigue and pushing down another wave of grief at the reminder of his loss, he replied stiffly.

"No sir, sorry sir." Seeming a little taken aback by the address, Stark blinked minutely before nodding and gesturing for Steve to comply, which he did quickly and efficiently, not allowing hismelf to hesitate to pull off his undergarments as well. He folded his clothes all neatly on the chair beside the examination table, suppressing a shiver at the slightly cold room and then looking back at Stark, who was patiently waiting for him to finish. Clearing his throat, Stark glanced back down at his clipboard, voice smooth but firm, professional. "Up on the table then." Deciding just to get it over and done with, Steve sat down, the padded bed soft enough on his skin but the room was a few degrees too low to put him danger of getting too comfortable. Expression unchanging, Stark corrected him. "Lying down." Steve felt a sharp twist in his gut but the scientist was wheeling the instrument table over so he steeled himself and carefully lay down. After a few moments Stark's face appeared in his line of vision, in the quiet of the room, Steve could pick up the soft humming of the lights and puff of Stark's breaths under the clank of metal on metal.

Snapping on some medical gloves, Stark reached over and took Steve's face in his hands, running his fingers along the jaw with his thumbs pressed ever so slightly against the closed lips, after a moment he murmured. "Open." Obediently, Steve complied, trying not to feel as vulnerable as he did. His eyes intense and focused, Stark nudged the mouth further open with a tongue depressor, looking in briefly before leaning away to write something, keeping the depressor in place. Pulling the depressor out again, Stark placed a few small cotton wads under the subject's tongue. He murmured. "Don't close."

Picking up one of Steve's hands, Stark pinched the skin on the back of the hand and held it for a few seconds, releasing it, he nodded as it flattened back immediately. He put the hand back down on the table and made a note on the clipboard. The soldier would have mentioned that the nurses had already done that but his mouth was still full. He could feel his saliva gathering behind his lower front teeth, his throat flexed as he tried not to swallow. Stark's hands had now moved to the prostate specimen's chest, pressing down firmly on his ribs, eyes like razors. Wanting to protest but feeling stupid about being uncomfortable with a medical examination, Steve forced himself to relax, registering a small murmur of concurrence from the scientist as he did so. Slowly, the fingers worked up his chest, outlining his now well-defined muscles, pressing in as if feeling for something under the skin. When the fingers reached the subject's nipples, a gloved finger and thumb were wetted in the tester's mouth before pinching the left nipple. A quiet, half-strangled gurgle escaped the soldier's throat and his face flushed as he glanced quickly at the impassive scientist who, perhaps thankfully, ignored his reaction. Stark repeated the action on the other nipple before writing something down.

Finally the hands seemed to be done and the subject felt relief as the damp wads of cotton were carefully removed from his mouth with small tongs and placed on the instrument tray. Working his jaw and swallowing a few times, Steve wanted to make a joke, but the serious and stony expression on the playboy's face stopped him. He supposed that despite the millionaire's reputation as a charmer, he was a serious businessman and inventor, of course he'd be focused when at work, so Steve stayed silent; though he did note that Stark was strangely quiet himself. Steve had only really seen him twice, once as the razzmatazz man and once as the world-famous engineer and whilst there were subtle differences in how he'd held himself in each role, the overall aurora was very similar. Now…well, maybe it was just the cold of the room playing with the soldier's head. The scientist didn't explain what he was doing or why, but the soldier hadn't really paid too much attention to the explanations from the doctors earlier so this didn't particularly bother him. At least, he told himself that it didn't bother him.

"Now I need you to slide down to the edge of the table." Even more conscious of his nakedness, the soldier complied stiffly, watching the scientist out of the corner of his eye. He felt cool fingers on his inner thighs. "Spread your legs please." Despite himself, his heart rate began to pick up, his throat even drier than before and whole body tensing steadily; wildly, he wished that someone else was in the room so he could glance at their expression, gauge their reaction. He heard himself protest as the fingers prodded harder into his goose-bumped skin.

"Mr Stark, why…?" The genius interrupted him smoothly, his voice once again cool and detached.

"Just a more detailed check, soldier, to make sure everything is functioning normally."

"I feel fine. Great, in fact, better than ever!" Steve vaguely recognised that he was babbling but he was ignored.

"Private Rogers, do I need to call someone in here to hold you down like a whining child?" Bristling at the jab and still uncertain his legs remained firmly shut as tried to remain polite whilst talking through gritted teeth.

"Mr Stark, I don't see how this could possibly be necessary." Loosening the pressure on his bare skin, Stark moved forward slightly so he could meet the subject's eyes more easily and his words were kinder.

"Rogers, I know that I'm not meant to be the one doing this, this would have been Dr Erskine's job," the very name clogged the soldier's throat, "but he's not here now and we just have to make do, alright?" Slowly, Steve nodded minutely. "One more test, I promise." Holding that intense gaze, the subject nodded again and finally, the tension in his legs dissipated and the insistent fingers pushed them open; the exhaustion was back.

"I'm sorry, I just-"

"Quiet. The sooner we finish this the sooner we can both get out of here." Despite feeling even more exposed and uncomfortable, Steve was calmed slightly by those words; Stark wanted to get away from that place as much as he did, but not before fulfilling his duty. Emboldened, the soldier lay as still as he could, trying not to react as his feet were guided into the stirrups attached to the bed and strapped in. The room seemed even quieter and colder as his thighs were spread even further. He swallowed heavily and tried to relax, letting Stark do his tests.

...

When it was finally over, Steve was gasping for breath. He must have blacked out at one point because the next thing he registered was thick liquid rapidly cooling on his stomach, his heavy breathing and an intense ache in his backside. Vaguely, he registered Stark stripping off his gloves and buttoning up his lab coat, his body half-turned away.

Steve felt weak in a way he'd never felt before. Sure he'd masturbated and climaxed before, always on his own in his tiny apartment, apart from that one time Bucky had dragged him to a brothel on his birthday. That experience had been even better than 'taking care of himself', even if it had been bookended by him stammering foolishly at the pretty girl. But that, that had been the most intense orgasm he'd ever had in his life, and the most inappropriate, leaving him almost unable to lift his head. He couldn't believe he'd reacted that way to a medical exanination. Suddenly terrified about what Stark would write in his notes, Steve's head shot up and he clumsily propped himself up to say something. Sensing the abrupt movement, the scientist turned back, clearly his throat and barking.

"Lie still." Glancing briefly at the soldier's face and taking in his line of vision, Stark realised what he was concerned about and waved a hand, words soft but his eyes still intense. "Just jotting down the essentials Rogers, nothing more." Still feeling unbalanced, Steve tried to relax, lying back down, face turned up to the blank ceiling. Stark stilled, staring at him for a long moment, before letting out a shaky breath and began unstrapping the soldier's feet from the stirrups and handing him a damp cloth. Legs tingling slightly, Steve sat up gingerly, body aching in a completely new way and wiped himself clean, limbs feeling even clumsier than earlier. He was engulfed in a post-orgasm haze, his relaxed muscles counteracting the bile bubbling in his stomach that wouldn't die down. Gulping, he tried to will his racing heart to slow down, breathing in deeply. Stark was now on the other side of the room, making some more notes. Without looking up he said dismissively. "That'll be all Private." Steve blinked a little at the abruptness but relief flooded him as he dressed quickly and bid the scientist a hoarse goodbye, leaving swiftly.

Shakily, the soldier left the building and found a car waiting to take him straight to the hotel. He got in robotically, not listening to the driver saying something and trying not to shift in his seat despite the discomfort. Staring sightlessly out of the window, Steve lost track of time and suddenly he'd arrived. He blindly followed directions to his room and managed to get there and inside without really registering it. Finding the bed he sat down slowly, carefully, wincing a little. After swallowing, the silence of the room closing in on him, he blinked rapidly, laid down on his side still fully-clothed and quietly cried.

...

Author's Notes: A more explicit version is available at AO3

/works/715826

Thanks for reading!

:D


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